… by J. R. Practix

Tag Archives: infection

Post navigation

Circulation: (n) movement to and fro or around something, especially that of blood in the body.

“If da blood don’t get der, you be dead.”

It’s not exactly a quote from a medical journal, but it’s still true.

At one time I had poor circulation in my left foot, which made it impossible for the blood to get down there and clean out an infection through medication.

So I lost two toes.

I’m not looking for sympathy–just a realistic appreciation that circulation has to happen.

In the body it’s blood. If the blood doesn’t get there, it turns gray and dies.

The same thing is true with life in general. When the circulation of newness, freshness, open thinking, forgiveness and compassion does not reach our soul parts, we just turn gray and die.

Just as it takes a good bit of exercise to keep some pink in the old man’s cheeks, it requires a lot of awareness, gentleness and even humor to keep each of us in the pink with our brothers and sisters–especially those younger ones who assume that as soon as we creak, we’re ready to croak.

Medicine is the lady and the tiger. Do you remember that story? You come upon two doors, and you’re told that behind one is a lady and behind the other is a tiger. If you open one, you receive pleasure; open the other, you chance death.

This is where we are in medicine.

As long as we’re taking poisons in an attempt to heal disease, hoping that those poisons will not destroy all of our good parts, our solutions will remain Neanderthal.

I, for one, have taken medicine and gotten the lady. I felt better and by the grace of healing, I was able to continue my life. I’ve also taken the same chemicals and gotten the tiger, and been cast into even deeper sickness or infection.

Somewhere along the line, as we study, we will realize that the power of healing is regeneration. It’s why we’re studying stem cells–living tissue encouraging dying tissue to live again.

It works for the alligator which loses its tail–and the more we understand in our treatments that this is the answer, the less we will appear to be merely alchemists.

It’s not exactly being crazy–it’s an infection of thought that comes into the brain and hangs around like a summer cold.

It affects the way we think.

It tampers with the depth of our love.

It stifles our passion.

Mental disease is tricky, because at first it seems to be an inkling, stated in passing, and then other people pick it up like a flag, waving it in the air as proof of a victorious idea.

One, which has infected the brain of the American public, is the attitude that what is said is not nearly as important as how it is said.

So even when people are teaching us, if they happen to have a brusque approach, our feelings tell us that they’re wrong because they aren’t sweet enough. Therefore, it’s easy for us to be enticed by falsehoods–simply if they’re presented in a candy-box of concern.

So we are easily fooled.

I suppose the consensus of thinking is to try to find nicer ways to say important things, to make sure people will listen. There might be some validity to that, but some issues are so essential for the human soul that they need to be delivered with solemnity … and deep gravitas.

Bacillus is certainly one of those words that you don’t want to hear very often in your life. Others would be bankrupt, sexually transmitted disease, and agony.

But I have heard “bacillus” once–and as they say, if you do it well, once is enough.

I was admitted into a hospital because I allowed an infection in my foot to get out of hand, thinking I could control it through home remedies and the power of presumption.

They took a specimen of my infection and discovered that I had two roaring types of bacteria annoying my well-being.

After spending two or three days in the hospital, they took another sample and discovered that I now had three–having added a new bacillus. So coming to the hospital afforded me the opportunity to gain an additional partner to the crime being perpetrated in my toes.

I questioned this, and the doctor explained that even though they try to keep all medical facilities clean and free of disease, it is, after all, a hospital, which is inhabited by unclean people with disease.

So that is my memory of bacillus.

It is something I acquired during my hospital stay… other than a bloated bill.

Every time I’ve cut myself, there’s been blood, treatment and eventually, healing.

It’s a good process.

The body seems to know how to mend itself quite well.

It astounds me that we have more concern for our physical well-being than we do for the cuts that happen to our emotions, our soul and even our minds.

They don’t heal as well.

Since they are not exposed to the air and sunlight for nurturing, they can hide away in a cave and fester with infection.

There are human beings who believe that as long as they don’t produce physical harm to another traveler, that they are not guilty of assault.

But I have found a simple formula to determine whether I am of value to others, or a source of pain–be it accidental. May I share it with you?

1. Unless people are hurting themselves or destroying their lives, bring something to their situation that’s edifying instead of your own opinion, which could easily be disproven as faulty through time.

2. Never assume that the words of anger or frustration spoken against you by friends or strangers are really meant for you, but instead, intended for someone who is not there–or even a “god” who has fallen out of their favor.

3. Always try to close every conversation with a piece of hope.

It has become my great concern in this latter part of my human journey to make sure that first and foremost, above all things…that I try to do no harm.

Like this:

Antibiotics (adj): a medicine such as penicillin which inhibits the growth of or destroys microorganisms.

There are two kinds of knowledge.

There is the current information available through research, discovery and even the sharing of hypotheses.

And then there are personal encounters which we all have with various subjects which grant a peek into the inner workings.

Now, some people swear by pursuing educational tools to learn about the universe and its various parts. Other folks are more intent on having a close encounter of the first kind with what they receive.

So when I look at the word “antibiotics,” I don’t immediately jump on Wikipedia and find out what the scientific community has to say about these chemicals which we refer to as “wonder drugs,” but rather, to take just a moment and tell you that for a very brief season in my life, I found myself septic and in need of pouring these concoctions into my system to counteract infection.

They do have truth in advertising, In other words, they are antibiotics, which means they are against all forms of life. They don’t just kill the bad guys in your blood stream, but while they’re there, are very willing to become hit men to all the good ones wearing white hats.

So even though I was appreciative of the cocktail of medication provided for me, I found myself having to take other pills to counteract the effects the antibiotics had on my “happy places.”

All sorts of little blurps came up on the screen during this season of healing. It let me know three very important things:

So even though I know that many folks swear by antibiotics, by the time I got done interacting with them, I was swearing at antibiotics.

I am not in a hurry to make reacquaintance or have a reunion. My sentiment about antibiotics is similar to my feeling about the sun: it is very nice to enjoy on a day when you’re going to the beach … but I have no particular desire to get any closer.

I started out with ten–a full complement. But when I got an infection in the big toe on my left foot and it spread to the next toe and threatened to become equally as evangelistic to all the surrounding little piggies, it became necessary for the doctor to come in and snatch two of ’em.

I was not favorable to this.

Even though the infection was threatening to go into gangrene, I had grown fond of having ten toes and considered it to be beneath me, as an intelligent individual, to trim down to eight.

It was explained to me that I didn’t really need ten toes–a similar conversation that young mothers have with their homely daughters when trying to point out the positive aspects of being plain.

I knew I didn’t need ten toes. (Well, I didn’t know, but I assumed that my feet would still work with eight.)

It’s just that I didn’t want to be weird.

I didn’t want to be that guy who was physically debilitated or weakened, making him seem a bit pitiful instead of powerful.

It’s not that a lot of people see your toes. Matter of fact, there are only certain occasions when such a revealing is even plausible.

But I saw–and my opinion matters to me.

But when it came down to a choice between dying or losing my two toes, I chose to bid farewell and bon voyage to the fellas.

It reminds me of an idea put forth in the Good Book: “If your right hand offends you, cut it off.” For it’s better to make it to heaven without a hand than to show up someplace else with a diseased appendage.

Interesting.

Of course, there are spiritual applications across the board–but I think one of the signs of maturity is knowing when to give up on things that are not working and cut them away before they taint and destroy everything else.

It’s never easy. After all, we grow accustomed to the face of our circumstance.

But as I sit here today–with eight toes–writing to you, I realize that it does not make a lot of difference.